


Little Eden

by reafterthought



Series: Let's Become Witches and Destroy the World [1]
Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Alternate Ending, Bow - Freeform, Depression, Despair, F/F, Gen, Karma - Freeform, SHIELD, Unhealthy Relationships, boomerang, extension, ffn challenge: diversity writing challenge, ffn challenge: one series bingo, ffn challenge: short multichap competition, rewriting the rules a bit, word count: 20000-49999 words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reafterthought/pseuds/reafterthought
Summary: He prayed for too small a paradise, apparently. They all did.





	Little Eden

They should have mentioned, he thought, that paradise was not a single person’s dream. That paradise could never _be_ a single person’s dream and the one who dared dream it was likely to wind up on the road to hell instead.

They should have told those girls, before they’d sold their dreams for that path to hell.

They should have told him, before he’d wound up the witness whose tongue was held.

They should have told him before he sold his soul to the devil too, but that wasn’t as bad. Brothers were supposed to protect their sisters, after all. Even if his story is a little backwards in doing it. After all, his sister is already doomed when he realises what’s happened.

But the thing about trading one’s soul for a dream is that you can generally get enough power to change someone’s fate, because you’ve traded in your own.

And, of course, he was going to put all his power towards changing his sister’s fate when he learnt it.

And, of course, he wasn’t the only one. Which might be what made the difference, in the end.

If it made a difference at all.

.

Madoka kissed him lightly on the head and then she was gone. He didn’t understand, back then, why he thought he’d never see her again. He stretched his arms towards her. His lips formed her name in the wailing cry he hadn’t quite lost yet to a more sombre whisper.

Their parents didn’t seem to grasp that. They worried, yes, but worried for a far more superficial reason. There was danger outside, after all. Outside where Madoka was going, towards something they couldn’t see, chasing something they couldn’t know. But they trusted her. Trusted her because Madoka always knew right from wrong, and if she did not, she would learn and grow up.

But a battlefield was not the place for such things. No room for mistakes there, where dodging too shallowly would leave her head tumbling off her shoulders and into the puddles of despair at her feet, where dodging too slow would leave her hefted up and thrown into the air, blood gushing like a faucet whose tap was now broken and whose flow could not be ceased until all the water from the reservoir it drank from was deceased. No room to breathe because if you stop moving, you’d be struck down and if you moved, you’d be struck down as well. No room to rest even though you couldn’t breathe and therefore every moving muscle, in minutes, would burn.

Not that he knew what a battlefield looked like. They were the stuff of scary movie scenes, of nightmares, of soldiers who went off to war far away, and of their ancestors whose legacies were sparse remnant these days. Battlefields weren’t places for kind little girls whose arms were only just big enough to wrap their tiny brother in a warm embrace.

Where was she going, he wondered? What kind of weapon could she possibly hold? Her hands were so soft and warm, petting his hair when he couldn’t sleep and lifting him into and out of his high chair so gently he couldn’t bear to throw the yucky carrot sticks at her.

He’d throw them at his father instead, of course, since he was the one who prepared their meals. Madoka didn’t like carrots either. She had a sweet tooth that was well-fed, as of late, by her new friend… until she’d come home crying one day and refused cake the next. She’d been sad for a while after that but she didn’t say why. None of them asked either. They gave her space. They comforted her.

Now, watching Madoka disappear down the street… Tatsuya wondered if one of them should have asked. Maybe then Madoka wouldn’t be marching off to a battlefield. Maybe then there wouldn’t have been a battlefield to begin with.

Madoka was marching off to a battlefield and people died on battlefields. Their mother pulled Tatsuya close, so he couldn’t seen the window anymore – or Madoka. He struggled because he wanted to see her, but by the time he got to the window again, she was long gone.

He knew which direction she’d gone in, though.

Their mother pulled him close again. ‘Pray for your sister,’ she whispered gently, in his ear. ‘Pray she comes home safely to us.’

‘Why is she going?’ Tatsuya wailed. And when did the tears start slipping down his cheeks? When did their father come close enough to rest a hand on his head? When did Madoka disappear: a little girl marching off towards a war she had no business fighting in… ‘Why does it have to be Onee-chan?!’

‘I don’t know,’ their father said softly. ‘What’s causing this? What Madoka knows? None of us know, but we know your sister. We know she cares deeply for her friends and I don’t see a single one of them here. We know that she’ll rescue every stray she finds because she has a heart big enough for all of them. We also know that she loves us – loves you – most of all, and she’ll come back, no matter what happens along the way. And whether she comes back smiling or in tears, we’ll be waiting for her.’

He shook his head. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it. ‘That’s not it!’ She wasn’t going to rescue her friends. She was going to fight. Or maybe she was going to fight to rescue her friends, and that amounted to the same thing. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure why he thought of a battlefield, either. Perhaps it was the way Madoka had smiled. Not worried; just resigned. Maybe it was the way she’d flexed her wrist before leaving, like she was going to draw a sword or bow. Maybe it was the way she looked so sad recently. The way she spent more time at home than she ever did, instead of with friends that were supposed to mean the world to her.

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

_Onee-chan, you’ll come back… won’t you?_

But Madoka didn’t say she would. It was their parents saying she would, but Madoka… Madoka had just kissed him on the forehead and left.

He ripped himself out of his mother’s hands and ran for the stairs. He could hear them shouting: their mother, their father. He ran faster and of course they’d catch up eventually but he had to reach Madoka first. Madoka shouldn’t have gone. Madoka had to come back. He couldn’t lose her. _They_ couldn’t lose her.

.

He followed the corner he’d seen her vanish behind, and then he saw it rising from behind the tall buildings: a monstrous shadow cutting out the horizon. The stuff of nightmares… and that made sense because Madoka in her big sister role could fight his nightmares. But it also didn’t make sense because nightmares where things that disappeared with nightlights and cuddles and not by the hands of little pink girls with bright pink bows.

That was Madoka, he was sure, with her bright pink bow. And next to her was her friend – one of her friends, the quiet Akemi Homura with her purple shield. Pink and purple. Bow and shield. They should have been snipers from far away, safe from any adversity…

And yet they were, too far away from him and too close to that monster that looked like an hourglass timer counting down to their demise.

Why was he so morbid, suddenly? Why was he thinking those things? Why did the image of his elder sister holding her regal bow not surprise him?

‘There are many karma threads around you as well,’ someone commented.

Tatsuya blinked. He saw nobody around, except the girls. His parents had been following, hadn’t they? When exactly had he lost them? And had everyone else escaped to the shelters? Or were they huddled in their homes? Or had something else swallowed them up: the hourglass filling with lives?

‘Down here,’ the voice yawned. Tatsuya looked at his feet, at the odd white cat which sat on his shoes. ‘There you go. Humankind is odd in that they never look to the sky or the ground. The world _is_ three-dimensional.’

‘Looking down is a sign of humbleness,’ Tatsuya replied automatically. ‘Or a lack of confidence.’

‘Well, both apply to your kind I think.’ The creature yawned again. ‘You all are such limited creatures. Small time spans. Such large capacity for emotion that distorts the balance. And so it is up to us to do something about that.’

‘Us?’ Tatsuya parroted. He didn’t understand. This creature… what was he?

‘I am Kyubey,’ the creature replied with a flick of his tail. ‘I am the one who grants wishes beyond what humans think is their potential.’

‘Then give me the power to save my sister!’ It was an easy demand to make. Too easy; the words just fell from his lips like he was born to say them. Perhaps he was. That was the bond between siblings after all, though it was Madoka always helping him. He was too young, too immature, to ignorant of the ways of the world…

So why did he feel like he’d aged rapidly these past few months?

‘Experiences bring forth maturity,’ Kyubey replied. ‘Though you live such small lives, in the end, that the amount of wisdom you collect is far inferior to our kind. And the more immature, the more powerful your emotions. Look there.’

He gestured towards the fighting girls and the hourglass monster: to Madoka and Akemi-san and their bow and shield and flashing pink and purple and the black they just couldn’t seem to penetrate.

‘Oh dear,’ Kyubey sighed. He was watching them again too. ‘Looks like it won’t be any good this time, after all. Pity Akemi is so suspicious.’

Akemi… What was the creature saying about Akemi? ‘Is Akemi-san a bad person?’ he asked tentatively. She didn’t look bad now; she looked kind and self-sacrificing, playing the shield for his sister… and yet a shield misplaced at the wrong time could lead to a swift reversal of the situation and nobody else would ever even now.

‘Akemi is distrusting,’ Kyubey replied. ‘But emotions are terribly transparent things.’ He didn’t elaborate, and Tatsuya wanted to shake it out of him because that mattered; that was important and he needed to know Madoka wasn’t going to just be stabbed in the back by her friend.

But Kyubey turned away from the battle once more. Turned to little Tatsuya who had somehow gained more wisdom than he should have. Not enough, though. There was an answer there he couldn’t find, couldn’t grasp. Something that would explain the increasingly convoluted riddle that had unveiled.

‘Power to save Kaname Madoka…’ Kyubey repeated. ‘I’m afraid that contract has been taken by someone else.’ It frowned; the first show of emotion it itself had expressed thus far. ‘I do not recall… Aah, but of course. So that is why…’

It mumbled to himself some more, and Tatsuya could make sense of none of it. It didn’t matter anyway; the creature offered as many questions as it had answers and, most importantly, it wasn’t offering him anything to help. The wish had already been taken by someone else, it said. Who wanted to protect Madoka more than him?

He looked at the battle. The pink bow and the purple shield, wielded by girls in pink and purple as well. Kaname Madoka and Akemi Homura…

Akemi Homura who wielded a shield and who was protecting his sister on the battlefield.

‘Akemi Homura,’ he repeated the thought aloud. ‘She wished to protect Madoka. That’s why she has a shield.’

‘That’s quite the deduction,’ said Kyubey, ‘for a human with almost none of the facts at their disposal. But likely correct.’

‘Likely?’ Tatsuya echoed.

‘I was not the one who granted her that wish.’ It leapt up at that, onto an empty car and looked Tatsuya straight in the eye. They were odd eyes: frightening, like a superior species attempting to lay judgement on them. He wondered if this was how mice felt before the creeping cat pounced at them.

‘Kaname Tatsuya,’ the creature said. ‘What do you truly wish for?’

His sister’s safety, of course. His sister’s safe return… and that meant she would defeat the hourglass monster and come back home.

‘Hmm…’ said the creature. ‘You want your sister to return to you. You want her to stay by your side. I can grant you that.’

But the truth was that those words, pretty as they were, didn’t guarantee her safe return. They didn’t guarantee her return at all. Words were easily twisted. Meanings were easily twisted. Wishes were easily twisted.

 Tatsuya had gained wisdom over these past few months, but apparently he hadn’t learnt that lesson.

.

They should have told the girls that their wishes were twisted, taken from their words at face value and twisted into something entirely different. Like a girl who’d wished to survive a fatal car crash and she survived, yes, but nobody else did and thus she was left alone. And then she found herself unable to die afterwards; bound to the contract she’d signed years ago. The wish for another chance turned into a wish for immortality and the girl learnt there was a vast difference between survival and truly living.

That girl eventually found the means of committing suicide in a way only puella magi could. That was the day Madoka came crying home, but Tatsuya would only guess at that connection later because she’d never mentioned it to him.

And perhaps that was why his wisdom was so distorted. Nobody ever told him the bad things. He was too young. Often, they didn’t tell Madoka the bad things either but she’d had more exposure than him and these last few months… these last few months were a trauma fest, as things went. Again though, they were things Tatsuya would only discover later, when understanding was the only thing he sought.

Right then though, he sought a wish for Madoka. And if he had known how easily words and thoughts and wishes could have been twisted, he would have spoken far more carefully. Or perhaps he wouldn’t have spoken at all… No, he would have. Despite the low probability of being able to outwit Kyubey, he had to make a wish if it transcended his current limitations and increased Madoka’s chances of success.

He wished for the power to protect Madoka. Those were the words he’d said – or said at first. But Kyubey said that wish had already been taken by someone else – probably Akemi-san, and so he had to think of another one, something that would still give Madoka back. He wished Madoka would return to him and Kyubey said that wish could be granted. What did that mean, though? He was about to learn, and he was about to learn that almost no wish was what the one who made it expected it to be.

He was also about to realise that what they paid in exchange was more significant than the children who signed the contracts realised.

.

‘I want Madoka to return to me,’ he said. ‘I want her to come home safe. I don’t want her to fight battles again. I want her to stay by my side forever!’

Kyubey laughed. ‘So earnest,’ it replied. ‘Okay; I can grant that for you.’ And a halo of light surrounded them. ‘Of course, you’re a special one which is why I can. Normally only little girls can make a contract with me. Boys are simply too simple-minded. But you… you have layers of karma upon your soul and that’s enough. But not enough to bend the universe.’

It touched its paws to Tatsuya’s chest and something glowed.

‘Doesn’t magic bend universes?’ Tatsuya asked.

‘In a human’s sense, they do,’ Kyubey replied, and then it withdrew its paws, holding some sort of jewel. ‘Will you join the fight now, to save your sister? Or will you watch from afar and wait for her to return to you under her own power?’

He’d fight. Of course he’d fight. What was the point of making such a wish if he couldn’t fight?

But how was he supposed to fight? His fists were soft, barely capable of knocking soft blocks down so what could he do about an hourglass made out of something far stronger than glass? What power had he gained? Akemi-san had a shield for her wish.

He looked at the jewel he held, glowing the same pink as his sister’s. ‘Help me,’ he asked of it – and when it didn’t respond, he shook it and asked more desperately: ‘Help me! Please!’

It sunk into his palm, into his tight grip, and his fingers found themselves gripping a boomerang instead. A boomerang… something he could throw from a distance and would return to him… like he wished for Madoka to return to him.

Why did his sister have a bow, then, he wondered, if that was how it worked? What wish did a bow suggest? What wish did a bow fulfil?

He didn’t have time to think when Madoka fell. Akemi-san dove after her, and suddenly there was no-one attacking the hourglass.

He threw the boomerang, even if he was too weak and too far. He threw it because that was all he had and it was power that he’d wished for and it had to be capable of something, capable of _doing_ something…

The boomerang flew, and it bounced off the hourglass member and clattered at his feet. ‘Not bad,’ the white creature said, hopping down from the roof of the car. ‘It’s weak against a Witch like Walpurgisnacht but I estimate it could handle lesser Familiars without a problem. And use it more effectively and it could handle lesser Witches and high-grade Familiars as well.

Witches, Familiars and Puella Magi… What had Madoka gotten mixed up in?

But more importantly, what could he do with a weapon that was ineffective against the monster they faced?

He’d wished for Madoka to return to him. And this boomerang had to help… somehow.

.

Children didn’t become heroes in seconds. Most children never became heroes, because heroes were such simple thoughts and children grew up and complicated things, complicated things to the point where they weren’t all bright and rosy anymore. And they never became bright or rosy again, and so their dreams of heroes faded away.

Once those emotions were gone as well, they were adults, but children were beings with lost dreams and a dam of emotions waiting to burst. And so the Incubators preyed on them. Became the heroes out of fairytales – or rather the witch who strikes unsuspecting poor souls – and offered little girls the one thing they wanted, so desperately, in that moment. And they’d make that wish and trade away their souls because in the face of that little white creature, it seemed like a worthy, beneficial trade.

And then they’d either die for the cause, too soon to be called a hero or even remembered at all, or they’d go on and on until the truth slowly dawned at them or else was slapped in their faces. And it didn’t matter how much of the truth they grasped: that truth called despair. Even a little bit was enough. Even a little bit would cause black spots to appear on the white canvas and thus would be the beginning of the end.

The beginning of an inevitable end, because the only ones who held on to their dreams and baby innocence were the ones who died before they grew up at all.

.

Madoka crawled to her knees, then her feet. The hourglass monster straightened up, then threw her clocks. Tatsuya threw his boomerang instead.

His aim was good, apparently, because it hit a clock and it shattered. But it took too long, to hit them one by one from that distance. He crept closer, and Kyubey didn’t follow; instead, it found a new perch and watched curiously.

Tatsuya ran though, because until Madoka could shoot herself, he couldn’t allow any of those clocks to hit her.

But he still couldn’t hit them all. He was too small, too slow. But Akemi-san was there, holding her shield up to stop the rest of the barrage.

Maybe she could have held it all. Maybe she didn’t need his help after all.

It didn’t matter, though. Akemi-san might be Madoka’s friend, but Tatsuya was her little brother and he was going to protect his big sister.

But now he was too close, and the splinters from broken clocks hurt.

‘Back away!’ Akemi-san shouted. ‘You’ve got a ranged weapon. Don’t use it like a club!’

And then she blinked and did a double-take at him. ‘You’re – ‘

They were distracted by more clocks, and they split up. Tatsuya did back away, and Madoka finally got back to her feet, swaying. She said something; Tatsuya couldn’t hear over the shattering clocks and maybe the words weren’t for him anyway.

He wished she’d look, but she wasn’t. She didn’t. And maybe that was a good thing too because at least she wasn’t distracted by him. At least she wasn’t wasting precious time on him. At least she was focusing on the fighting, focusing on staying alive.

And he could focus on those clocks, because that was the only utility he could offer, and that left Akemi-san free to haul things from behind her shield at the hourglass monster. Some of them flashed. Some of them smelt like burned paper even from his new vantage point. And some of them made loud noises and made the monster shriek in pain so that meant they were effective, and more importantly they opened up a path for Madoka to aim her bow.

She drew her bow back, and fired the arrow. It flew with a whistle in the air and then a tear that made Tatsuya cover her ears. And the monster slowly, slowly, toppled down.

He didn’t understand. That was too easy, wasn’t it? Why did Akemi-san need to protect Madoka at all if that was what she was capable of? Why did Tatsuya need to come to his sister’s aid if she could take that monster down with a single shot? He didn’t understand. Neither did Akemi-san, looking bewildered as the rest of the clocks shattered into finely ground glass, and finally, the hourglass joined them.

He didn’t understand why Madoka toppled over again. Why Akemi-san ran to her like the enemy was still there… was it? She had a gun out this time, instead of bombs and grenade. A gun she suddenly found him with. A gun Madoka followed with her eyes, screaming when she saw him, saw what Akemi-san was aiming at.

Tatsuya let the boomerang fall. He could aim at clocks but he doubted very much he could aim at bullets.

Except Akemi-san apparently wasn’t aiming at him. She shot something behind and to the side of him. _Kyubey!_ And the little white creature shrieked and fell, blood soaked and all three of them left it. Because Akemi-san was the one who’d shot and Tatsuya had eyes for Madoka before everyone else.

And Madoka still hadn’t gotten off the ground. She didn’t even look towards the Incubator. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed. ‘Tatsuya,’ she said hoarsely. ‘How? Why? What are you doing here?!’ The last was a hysterical shriek, but it does nothing to get her off the ground, though she tried. ‘Tatsuya, what are you doing here?’ That time, it sounded more like a wail.

‘I don’t understand,’ Akemi-san frowned. Her other hand gripped something tightly, and she still held the gun in her right. ‘Only young girls can become Puella Magi… unless the Incubator was lying again. Bastard.’ She spat off a long string of curses after that, and Madoka managed a mild scolding look.

‘That’s… my little brother,’ she said.

Akemi-san stopped muttering. ‘He does look like you,’ she agreed. ‘Same stubborn-headed need to save people too, apparently.’ She waved him over, and he went slowly. Akemi-san was terrifying with her gun and her shield but she had kept Madoka safe and that was the most important part. ‘Why did you make a contract with an Incubator?’

‘So Onee-chan can come back home, to me,’ Tatsuya replied. Her voice had dropped: chilling, scolding. But she wasn’t in a position to scold him. Nobody was. ‘Before she left, Onee-chan and Okaa-san talked. About something complicated: about growing up and good girls and Onee-chan is a good girl – she’s the best girl. And that’s why when Onee-chan said she was going when we were supposed to stay in that centre, Okaa-san let her go.’

Madoka laughed at that. ‘I think I told Okaa-san I was going to be a bad girl.’

‘You were a bad girl,’ Akemi-san agreed. ‘You made a contract with the devil.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Tatsuya continued. ‘I know Onee-chan came to fight. I don’t understand why, though. And I don’t understand what she wished for, to have a bow. Akemi-san wished to protect someone, right? That’s why she has a shield that can protect Onee-chan?’

Madoka tilted her head. Akemi-san nodded slowly, eyes swimming with something more potent than friendship: something closer to love.

‘But what are you fighting? Why are you fighting? And what did that little white cat mean about karma?’

.

That was a funny word: karma. In simplest terms, it meant receiving one’s dues but when more than one person or timeline was involved, things no longer stayed so simple and linear. In Madoka’s case, the timelines hinged on her and had been rewound many a time, and would no doubt be rewound many more times until the ideal future was received or the magic stone that rewound the world ran dry of hope and power.

And in any one time, people’s fates, and so people’s karma as well, were intertwined.

Akemi Homura rewound time and placed Kaname Madoka at the centre of it. But there were more people involved aside from them. For example, invariably, they would run into Tomoe Mami and Sakura Kyouko. Invariably, Miki Sayaka would be exposed to Labyrinths and Incubators and Witches and though it wasn’t invariable, she’d often come out a Magical Girl, and then a witch or a straight corpse, at the end of it.

Invariably, everyone turned into corpses. That was the terror of Walpurgisnacht.

But karma in its barest form was energy. And the energy of timelines mounted upon a single person collected – but it wasn’t just that person. People’s futures changed, with every change Akemi Homura made to the new timeline. And the changes weren’t always centred around Madoka. She tried to save Sayaka, sometimes. Tried to save Mami. Tried to spare more innocent girls from getting wrapped up in the games. Tried to bring Tatsuya’s big sister home.

Those choices added up, left weights of karma upon those girls as well. Why, then, did Sayaka not grow as strong as Madoka? Why did Hitoe, who’d been so often affected by her two friends, rarely ever contract with the Incubator? Why did Mami and Kyouko invariably die before Walpurgisnact, before they could save the world?

Why did Tatsuya, before all this, never know?

.

Akemi-san started to explain. Something about the balance of energy in the universe, but then she drifted off. Madoka was holding something out to them. A pink swirling gem – except it was mostly black.

Akemi-san cursed again. ‘I should’ve immediately…’ She opened her other hand; there was a similar seed on her palm, completely black. She tipped it into Madoka’s outstretched hand, then opened her palm again. There was a purple stone embedded there. Purple and almost black. ‘Go on! Heal it!’

‘It’s okay.’ Madoka handed the seed back. ‘I’ve got one from the other day still.’ She smiled at Homura. ‘It’s okay,’ she repeated.

Akemi-san nodded and touched the tip of the pure black seed to the purple one in her hand. It drained the black out and shattered, leaving her stone pure purple once more. And it was colourful: distracting. Tatsuya couldn’t tear his eyes away.

And maybe that was why he missed it: Madoka’s obvious lie, until Akemi-san turned back to her. ‘Now you! Hurry!’

Madoka laughed again: a bubbling, sad, laughter. ‘I’m sorry, Homura-chan. I lied.’ She didn’t have a seed, whatever they were meant to do. Drain the black out of the stone. What was that? What did it matter?

Akemi-san paled at that. ‘You – ‘ she spluttered, before tears spilt, unbidden, from her cheeks.

Somehow, those tears made Tatsuya feel really cold.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘You need to turn back time again. Stop all of this. Stop me from falling for Kyubey’s lies. Save Sayaka. Save Mami-san and Kyouko-san too. Stop my stubborn little brother from following me.’ She laughed again, raising a shaky hand towards him. ‘My loving, stubborn baby brother.’

Tatsuya found himself crying too. Madoka was talking like she was dying, like she was leaving him. ‘No.’ He shook his head. What would his contract with the Incubator amount to, if he couldn’t do this? ‘It promised me. You’d always return to me!’

‘The Incubators are experts at twisting words,’ said Akemi-san, bitterly. ‘You were right, you know. But you were also wrong. I didn’t wish to protect Madoka. I wished that the time we’d spent together could be redone, that I could redo it and protect Madoka. So I gained the ability to turn back time, but ten timelines later, it’s the same damn thing!’

She punched the ground at the end of her speech, then again.

Tatsuya crawled closer to his sister, close enough for her to touch him. ‘Sorry,’ she said again – too quiet now. He could barely hear her. ‘Sorry, otouto. Your Onee-chan couldn’t be a good sister in the end.’ And then she was staring at Akemi-san again. ‘Please, Homura-chan. Kill me now, and turn back time.’

But Tatsuya couldn’t allow that. Whatever he knew, whatever he _didn’t_ know, he couldn’t allow that.

 


End file.
